


Always Come Back Again

by Becher



Series: Turning Around [2]
Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst, F/F, First Kiss, Happy Ending, M/M, Sequel, Soulmate AU, connor and zoe are trying, connor's pov, everyone is trying, these boys need a break
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-15
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2019-04-19 18:11:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14242935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Becher/pseuds/Becher
Summary: Connor is trying. Sometimes it just doesn't feel like enough. (Turning Around in Connor's point of view)





	Always Come Back Again

_But our love it was stronger by far than the love_

_Of those who were older than we—_

_Of many far wiser than we—_

_And neither the angels in Heaven above_

_Nor the demons down under the sea_

_Can ever dissever my soul from the soul_

_Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;_

_~-~_

Honestly, God bless public transportation. It costs next to nothing, it's good for the environment, and nobody bats an eye when a teenager wearing Superman pajama pants and an oversized sweatshirt rides until the end of the bus route. I poked my finger through a hole in the knee of my pants, pressing my nail into the soft skin. I would need to sew it when I got home, or my mom would flip.

 _Your new pajamas, Connor? Your father got those for you for Christmas!_ She would chide, shaking her head in the way she always did, like she was wondering what had happened to the boy who used to stay inside all day to play with trains and wore his Superman onesie until it could practically walk on its own. The boy who, when thunder broke the heavens and the white flash of lightning made the sun seem dim, would only be able to sleep if she was holding him. Surely that boy couldn't have grown into  _Connor_ , who lived for the thrill of that deafening crack and whose clothing was often filled with such tears, likewise his body covered with bruises and scrapes he wouldn't tell her about.

I rubbed my eyes, which burned from lack of sleep, and tried not to think about why I was on the bus in the first place.

It had started with the stupidest argument in the universe. Or maybe it was just my shitty day in general that was the cautasm of me exploding and then just...needing to get away. Zoe had been practicing her new guitar, which was only slightly better than her saxophone. It wasn't that I didn't  _like_  hearing my sister play. I  _did_ ―though I would never tell her that in a million years. It was relaxing to hear the gentle strums wafting through the house, Zoe humming carelessly along and she picked her way through the instrument. But I was tired and that asshole Kleinman had figured out that I...well, specifics weren't important, but he had used his two brain cells to Sherlock together something that was probably left locked deep in the depths of my soul and had interrogated me on it for a full five minutes only a few meters away from the very person it was a secret from. And now Kleinman and that person were hanging out and I couldn't help but worry over the possibility of Jared letting something slip from that big mouth of his and  _woosh_ ; everything I had worked so hard to build and contain that year would fall like the unstable house of cards it was.

And there was Zoe, blissfully ignorant as she plugged her guitar into her amp and began to play some stupidly indie song about being patient and how shit changes, as if that wasn't obvious. It was a heart-throbbingly lonely song, the kind that resonates like a whistle in cave and echoes and echoes and echoes. It was haunting.

Zoe with her star covered everything, who was blind to the fact that Evan Hansen was hopelessly in love with her and I was. Well.

So I did something stupid, yelled at her and unplugged her amp, told her to take her shit music to Woodstock (she'd probably highlight at Woodstock). Zoe had yelled back like I knew she would about how terrible of a brother I was, how my soulmate was going to wish they were dead. It stung as it always did but it stung in the good way that was familiar and reminded me that  _this_  was my life, not the play-acting I did with Hansen where everything was fun and nostalgic and we made pretend that we were, like, normal human beings and not total fucking messes that the universe just hadn't figured out how to mop up yet. Then Zoe had to start crying and suddenly I couldn't breath so I left, and now here I was, pretending not to see the concerned if not slightly suspicious looks the bus driver kept sending my way from the rearview mirror.

I considered getting off at any random stop just so the big guy wouldn't call child services or something, but was saved by my phone ringing in my sweatshirt pocket. I didn't even know why I had bothered to grab it on my way out the door.

_Ethan: party at phils. u in?_

It didn't take much hesitation for me to type out a quick response, my fingers flying maybe a little to eagerly across the screen.

_Connor: yes._

―

The address Ethan had given me was to some raging college party halfway across town with music too loud and lights that called for an epilepsy warning across the state, the kind of party Ethan had a sort of proclivity for finding. Someone shoved a can of beer into my hand and it burned going down. If I had a scene, this would be it. At least, I thought. It's where everyone expected me to be. Well, here or a ditch with a needle jabbed up my arm. It wasn't that I particularly liked parties or even the people I was there with. It was the way the music was alive, the way it had a pulse that thrummed throughout the house and up through the feet of every person. The way the air crackled with energy and suddenly you were high as a kite just standing in the thick of it, so high cloud nine was like Marianas Trench and the stars―that's where it was at. I went to these parties and I danced, and I felt like I could touch the stars, feel them fizz against my hand and swallow them whole. So of course I'd rather be here than at home. Who would trade the stars in for icy glares and impossible standards, broken memories and a house that choked and swallow everyone who entered.

"Connor!" someone wrapped an arm around my shoulder, yelling into my ear over the noise. Ethan's skin was hot and sticky, his dark hair wild from his unstillable hands which were constantly pushing it back. His breath smelled like cigarettes and chocolate, and when he kissed me it was wet but also warm and electrifying. He pulled away with a grin and handed me a mostly-used joint. I took a hit, blowing the smoke back into Ethan's face, to his annoyance. "Don't be a dick! C'mon, we're in the back." he plucked the joint from my fingers and smashed it into an ashtray before grabbing my hand and pulling me through the house.

We stopped in an upstairs room. There were seven or eight guys already there, and I shook free of Ethan, more than happy to just watch as someone brought out a small bag of white powder and began to divvy it up with his credit card. He gestured to me, his eyebrow raised in question.

"Want some?"

I shook my head. I had never tried coke and wasn't to keen on ever doing it. "I'm fine."

The guy shrugged, uncaring, and bent over his line. Ethan shot me an annoyed glance, and I knew I was going to get another speech later about being a wuss or a party pooper or whatever, and why did Ethan even bother to bring me if I was just going to kill the mood like that? Ethan handed me the bottle of cheap vodka he had taken from God-knows-where and I obediently took a sip.

Ethan finished and rose with a whoop, shaking himself furiously. He ran a hand through his hair, and it stuck up even more, as though he had stuck his finger in an electrical socket. Something twisted in my gut, and I wondered briefly what the fuck I was doing. I could be at home reading, or with Evan and Jared, or literally  _anywhere_  else. I took another sip straight from the bottle as we stumbled down the stairs, and kept drinking until I remembered.

I was there to get lost. So I did.

Time passed in less of a blur and more of a smudge, a streak spot of rhythm and heat. I had two beers and then three and four and then I stopped counting. I thought, maybe this is what living is like. Not simply being alive, breathing and eating and pissing and sleeping in a routine daze, but  _living_. To have  _life_  thrumming in your veins like golden ichor.

I was blissfully numb and racing at the same time, and it was an intoxicating feeling.

I spent the night on Ethan' couch. His parents were assholes that made mine look like patron saints, and Ethan had hit the floor running as soon as he graduated high school. His apartment was no luxury penthouse but it was obvious he was proud of it, rat droppings and all.  _"It's not much but it's fucking mine, ya know?"_  he had told me once, after I had asked him why he didn't find a way to bum the money off his parents.  _"That's the best part of it. I'm renting it, sure, but it's still mine and no one else's."_

When I woke up, hungover with only the haziest recollection of anything from the night before, Ethan was there to hand me a glass of water. He didn't look much better himself, which was saying something for how hard he must've partied. I wasn't a lightweight but Ethan could down four shots to my one without faltering. Blessedly, his drapes were closed.

I took a sip of the water and immediately spat it back out, "This is fucking  _vodka_."

He looked almost proud, "Trick I learned in freshman year of college: you can't be hungover if you're always drunk." seeing my trepidation, his expression immediately hardened. "Look, dude, nurse your hangover like a pussy if you want. What do I care?" I drank it, my expression twisting in disgust. Jesus. It wasn't even noon and I was already drinking. Ethan raised his eyebrow and I realized I had said that last bit aloud. "Not even noon? It's two in the afternoon."

 _Oh._  My mother was going to kill me― _Evan_  was going to kill me. "Why didn't you wake me up, dick?" I growled, hitting him with the pillow from beneath my head. Ethan grabbed it easily and hit me back twice as hard.

"I just woke up myself, like, and hour ago. You're not worried about missing school or anything, are you?" he asked suspiciously.

" _No_ , I'm worried about my mom hiding my ass."

"Whatever, man. If you want to run home to mommy, do that. I've got another party in a few hours, though, so if you just want to keep getting your beauty rest..."

It was obvious which answer was the right one and which one would get me completely cut off. Ethan was like that. There was never any compromise, never any lukewarm middle. Just hot and cold, black and white. It was what had drawn me to him in the first place, but now it was just exhausting. To always have a choice but at the same time no choice at all.

I grabbed the pillow and punched it into position. "Sure. Whatever. Wake me up in time to take a shower."

He did and I took a quick cold shower that somehow left me feeling worse. Ethan tossed me the keys to his beat up truck. It's red paint must've once been bright as a stoplight but now it was almost covered by dirt and grime, faded by time and misuse. It also didn't have any real seat belts so we tied worn pieces of rope around our waists to nails Ethan had hammered in. The truck started indignantly with a sputter and then a roar, upset that we were waking it from its well-deserved slumber.

It wasn't the first time I had done this. Partied with Ethan, stayed at his place, and then wash, rinse, repeat. I just hadn't had the urge to in a while. As we were driving my phone dinged and Ethan picked it up. His nose wrinkled in confusion.

"You just got a message from  _Asswipe_  asking if you're sasquatch?"

I rolled my eyes. Evan and Jared were having fun, it seemed. "Leave him on read."

Wash. Rinse. Repeat.

It wasn't that late, maybe ten or eleven, when my phone began to ring in my pocket. I didn't notice it at first, and then I thought it was someone else, and then Ethan tapped me on the shoulder to tell me to pick it up. The caller ID said it was Evan, but that didn't make sense. Evan hated speaking on the phone, and he was to busy making out with Jared or whatever to bother calling at the moment.

"Hello?"

"C-Connor?" Evan's voice came from over the line, choked and rough like he had been crying. "Are you alright?"

 _Like he cared._  "Evan? Pshh, yeah, I'm  _fine_." totally fucking fine, I'd only had like four or five beers and shared a joint with Ethan and this party had much better music than the last, and wasn't nearly as tightly packed. And nobody I knew was there, which was kinda the best part.

There was a pause. "Where are you?"

"What. Why?" Zoe had probably set him up to this, that was it. God, couldn't she let me fucking live for just a second?

"So I can come pick you up." he said, like it was obvious.

"You're not my mom, Evan." I snapped. God,  _fuck_ , my head hurt.

"I-I know, but you're high and-"

I cut him off. "I'm always high, Hansen. God," I laughed, and the sound scared me. This wasn't me. Or maybe it was. "Don't be so dense." The song changed, the beat quickening and lightening. Around me, the crowd surged and hollered excitedly. It took me a minute to realize Evan was saying something, and I shook my head. "How many times do I have to say this? I'm fine. F-I-N-E."

The beat dropped and I felt it in my stomach. I thought I might be sick. "You're not fine!" Evan cried, his voice tinny and far away over my cheap, second-hand phone. I had broken the first five my parents got for me, and they refused to pay for a new one. This was the compromise. "You're high and you need to come home right now!" it sounded almost funny when he said it, like it was such a fucking shocking thing. Like this was totally out of character for me. "You're going to get yourself hurt!"

Someone put their hand on my shoulder. I turned, it was Ethan, all loopy smiles and gorgeous brown eyes. He was so different from Evan, the dark to his soft light. I thought I might've been drunk. I was suddenly very eager to hang up, to let Ethan pull me into one of his expert kisses and pass me another beer. And another. Enough that I wouldn't notice the difference between brown eyes and a pair of annoyingly caring blue that wouldn't leave me alone. "Get out of my ass, Hansen."

I hung up, and pulled Ethan in. His muffled sound of surprise died in my throat, and we were alive.

"You ready to fucking blow this joint?" he smirked when we pulled away, and I didn't understand the twist of guilt in my gut.

"Definitely."

He grabbed my hand and pulled me through the hoard of party goers. The cool night air felt like a slap to the face compared to the heat of the party. I suddenly hit me that I was drunk―very, very drunk, and definitely in no state to drive.

"Hey, are you good to drive?" I asked Ethan, leaning up against him for support. It didn't put me at ease when he leaned back. He smelled like cigarettes and beer, and I missed peach shampoo and Earth.

"Pshh, dude, this is nothing. I'll be fine."

I really had no choice but to believe him, so I got into the car, despite the voices of every DARE and SADD officer I'd ever head buzzing in my ears like gnats. Ethan fumbled to put his keys in the ignition and I leaned back, closing my eyes, like nothing bad could happen if I wasn't watching. It didn't work.

One second we were driving and then―then I don't know. We began to glide across the road, and the car groaned in protest as it's face met the tree, like it wanted to hug it or something. I remember throwing up my hands, the sound of metal crunching so loud I thought I was going to go deaf from it. Ethan yelled something beside me, something like  _shit_  or  _God_  but that didn't make sense because Ethan never cared about God, not even enough to be blasphemous.

And then everything went dark, and I felt like I was submerged in a pool of jello which. Fuck.

I saw lights. Like police lights, red and blue flashes that seemed distant. They washed over me, and then there was darkness again. And a horrible, incessant ringing in my ears that just crescendo louder and louder until I wanted to scream because  _fuck_. Fuck! My goddamned ears were going to burst and my head was going to split or explode like that video of a guy shooting a watermelon with a shotgun.

My heart beat like a gong in my chest, and suddenly there were voices. And a bright light that burned through my eyelids, this annoyingly incessant beeping, and then blessedly cool darkness.

―

Larry was not happy. His anger was to big for the small hospital room and much to loud for my already-aching head. My mother and Zoe stood in the corner. The latter seemed like she was trying to sulk but failing miserably. She looked almost like she had been crying.

"What the hell were you  _thinking_ , Connor?" he roared, "How do you think your mother felt to learn you had snuck off  _again_  to go get shitfaced God-knows-where, and the next thing we know we get a call from the hospital saying you were in a car accident? How do you even know that guy?"

"I don't." I mumbled, scratching at the bandage covering a scratch on my arm. "I met him at the party. He's no one."

"Obviously he's fucking  _someone_ ," Larry growled. My mom put a hand on his arm, her eyes soft and red from crying. I hated that. My mom wasn't perfect but at least she  _tried_. She definitely didn't deserve a shitty son like me.

"Honey, not right now. Look at him! Connor, honey, is there anything we can get you? Your friend is here, do you want Zoe to go get him?"

"What friend?" I snapped, rubbing my head. There was some stitches above my eye and I winced when my hand accidentally brushed over them.

"It's Evan." Zoe answered, annoyed. "I called him because he was worried when you didn't come to school."

"Evan?" I said, incredulous and ignoring the way my heart sped up at just his name because I refused to be a walking cliche. "Seriously?"

Zoe rolled her eyes. "I'll got get him. Try to show a little more enthusiasm when he comes up."

She left and I sank back into the starchy pillows, dearly wishing my parents would follow. They didn't make any move to leave. In fact, my mother crept closer, smoothing the blankets down as if that would make what vaguely could be called a bed any more comfortable.

My dad crossed his arms. "Stop babying him, Cynthia. How is he ever going to learn his lesson that way?"

The corners of her lips turned down in a frown. My mother was pretty but her stress was slowly beginning to show in the lines around her mouth and eyes, despite the creams that crowded the bathroom cupboard. When she spoke, her voice was tight. "Larry. Not now."

She tried to brush her hand against my cheek but I drew away. My dad was nonplussed. "Connor..."

"Don't you guys have anywhere to be besides, you know,  _here_. Jesus Christ, can you stop hovering for, like, five minutes? I doubt the nurses are going to hand out shots if you leave me alone long enough." I snapped.

My mom looked like a child whose balloon had been carried away by a rough gust of wind. "We're just worried, Connie."

I crossed my arms, unable to help myself. "Bullshit."

Because it  _was_. Of course they don't care about me running off or any of the shit I'm doing, they care that I managed to land in the hospital and now they have to pay the bill. I felt my headache throb behind my eyes.

My father grimaced. "We'll be waiting outside, Connor."

More than relieved, I watched them go.

Everything fucking  _hurt_ , like I had been the one to get hit by a car, not the tree. I could barely crack my neck without wincing, and I couldn't help but worry about the state Ethan would be in. At the same time, it wasn't like I could ask them without raising questions. And there was no freaking way I was going to ask Evan to find out. It was like I lived in two worlds and one of the worlds was a plate of mustard and the other banana yogurt. As in, it wouldn't be a good idea if I mixed them.

Ethan was an idiot.  _I_ was an idiot.

I could barely even remember the night before. I knew I had probably stayed at Ethan's place, and I knew the beer at the party sucked. And I remembered my phone ringing in my pocket, so that must've been...

Shit. Evan.

_"I'm always high Hansen. God. Don't be so dense."_

There was a gentle knock at the door, and I started, sitting up faster than I probably should have because it hurt. A lot. There was a strangely familiar woman standing there, her blonde hair framing her tired face in gentle ringlets. Her eyes were a familiar, gut-wrenching blue. The name tag that was pinned to the tail of one of the pigs on her uniform only confirmed my suspicions. She smiled at me, so kind and forgiving that I almost cried.

"Hi sweetie. My name's Heidi Hansen, I'm Evan's mom. Do you mind if I come in?" I nodded mutely, and she sat in the plastic, maroon chair by my bed. She held a clipboard in her hands, but it stayed in her lap, ignored. "Evan's told me a lot about you. He thinks...very highly of you." her tone made it obvious that she was holding her own verdict until further investigation, and I couldn't blame her, especially considering the circumstances. Which. Great. "You gave us all quite a scare tonight, Connor."

"Sorry." I mumbled, feeling lame. She softened.

"I'm just glad your safe. I want you to know that there are resources here at the hospital that can help you. I'm sure we can work something out with your parents, and it will all be almost completely covered by insurance, if money is a problem."

Money wasn't the problem. Larry was.

"S'okay."

She didn't seem satisfied with my answer, but obviously didn't want to press it, which I appreciated. "Okay. I don't mean to pressure you into anything, it's just kind of my job." she laughed a little, "I'm a nurse and a mom, so," to my surprise but not necessarily my displeasure, she grabbed my hand and gave it a soft squeeze. Her palm was calloused but her grip was strong and comforting. It was so foreign and unexpected that I didn't even register what was happening until she pulled away. "I'm glad you and Evan are friends. Or, what is it you kids say?  _Hanging out_?" she laughed again, but it was sadder. She had more laugh lines than my mom, but her brow was drawn tighter and her eyes were dark with bags. "He seems a lot happier, recently. Though I have to admit I didn't hear your name until yesterday, but I think that's just a thing you teenagers do. Honestly, your like brick walls." this was good. Teasing was good. I didn't even know her, I just wanted to keep her smiling. I had no trouble imagining why Evan cared about his mother so deeply.

"Yeah," I croaked, my voice hoarse from disuse. "Yeah, I think my mom would say the same thing."

Heidi tilted her head like she was trying to solve a puzzle. "Try talking to her sometime, sweetie. She might have some surprising things to say. I think I've taken up to much of your time. I just was excited to meet the famous Connor Murphy!" she grinned and stood, holding her clipboard loosely at her side. "It would be our pleasure to have you over sometime for dinner, so do us all a favor and get better soon, okay?" I nodded, and she smiled again. "Get some sleep, honey."

As if she was some sort of sorcerer, I closed my eyes. It felt like barely a second had passed when I heard the almost familiar tap of Evan's sneakers in the hall, and then there he was, hesitating in the doorway like a vampire waiting for an invitation. I blinked and yawned. There must've been some tranquilizer or whatever they give you in the concoction of meds they had injected into my arm, because I could hardly keep my eyes open.

"Evan?" again, I stupidly tried to sit up, and winced like I was surprised when it hurt.

He took a few frantic steps into the room before stopping just shy of the end of the bed, his hands twisting the edge of his shirt, unsure. He laughed weakly. "Oh my gosh, yeah, don't...don't get up." his eyes scanned me like an x-ray and I suddenly felt self-conscious, and more than a little bit like a total asshole. Evan seemed like he was the one who should be taking a short hospital leave. His hair was sticking (adorably, in literally any other circumstances) in all directions, and he was still wearing his flannel pajama pants. He looked like he was watching a car crash in slow motion, the knowledge that he couldn't do anything to stop the disaster before him weighing down on his entire person until he seemed like he might crack from the stress of it. I internally winced. Considering the circumstances, probably  _not_  the best metaphor. "How're you feeling?"

I sank back into my pillows, "Crap. Crapalicious. Shitastic. But I'm loaded up on enough painkillers that nothing hurts." I frowned. Almost nothing, but Evan didn't need to know that. "Like drugs are the one thing I want in my system right now." I blushed, "Well, more drugs."

Evan took a step closer, pointedly ignoring the chair his mother had been sitting in not to long ago. I couldn't blame him. He was just far away to make a run for it, if he needed to. I wanted to tell him that he wouldn't need to. That I wasn't ever going to freak out and hurt him. That I had no intention of ever doing so again, but then I knew that the road to hell was paved with good intentions and I sure as you-know-what wasn't going to heaven.

But for now, Evan deserved the best I could give him. Which was a fucking apology, for once. "Evan. I am so-I'm so sorry for all that shit I said. I don't know why I said that, because...because I didn't mean it. I swear." I tried to show my earnest, to show I really did mean it. Evan didn't seem half convinced, and I could see him retreating into that shell of his. I hurried on. "And that makes up for absolutely fucking nothing. You're not-you're not dense, and I don't get annoyed that you worry because it's nice-nice to have someone actually care, and I-I should have let you pick me up. I'm sorry."

Evan shook his head, and I watched him crumble. Saw him try to believe that I was telling the truth and then fail because I had already pulled up what little trust had managed to grow between us like a weed. "You don't have to worry about that." he said quietly, "Just...get better really soon."

Evan was gone. Not physically, but I could see the walls as they went up and suddenly I had this very clear vision of this future where, if I didn't say something now, we would pass each other in the hallways and wouldn't be able to speak and then we would both graduate and Evan would become president or some shit and one day Jared would call him to make some joke about the school shooter they once knew and Evan would say,  _"Conrad Murray? I don't recall..."_  and I only had a second to think  _he likes your sister_  before I grabbed his arm and kissed him.

And.

Fuck.

My brain must've short-circuited, because Evan Hansen has the softest lips in the world and he smells like peaches and woodsmoke, but anyways suddenly we were in the orchard. Like, our orchard, and Evan said something about apples but I don't know what exactly it was because I was kissing him again and I couldn't breath because Evan. Evan, Evan,  _Evan._

Evan was my...Evan was my  _soulmate._   _Holy_ fucking _shit._

And I thought I had been in love with Ethan, but this.

The second Ethan's face flashed across my mind, almost like I had called for it, the world broke into pieces and we were falling down, down, down, like Alice, tumbling into the rabbit hole. There was nothing but darkness and the screams ripped from Evan's throat, his heart beating so rapidly I could feel it against my chest as I found him and held him as tight as I could.

It was over as soon as it had began, and we were back in the hospital room, the smell of antiseptic almost painful. Evan was shaking. He was standing again, my hand still wrapped tightly around his wrist like we were the second before the...the, um...

He was rocking back on his heels, muttering nonsensically to himself. His eyes were shut so tight I was afraid they might get stuck like that.

"Evan?" I called, shaking him gently. "Evan, open your eyes." he did the opposite, and I had to stop myself from snapping at him. " _Evan_."

He slowly opened one eye, his shoulders relaxing visibly and then tensing again almost immediately. He looked like he might be sick. "What just happened?" he whispered but, before I could answer, someone cleared their throat.

Jared Kleinman, because of course it was him, waltzed into the room, waving around a chocolate covered spoon like a scepter as he gaped. "You two are soulmates? I-wow,  _okay_ , wait let this sink in." I was going to murder this guy. Jared rocked back on his heels, pretending to think very hard as though he had the brain cells to spare. Then, because he's an idiot, beamed. "Mazel tov!" he seemed almost crushed when we didn't break out the party favors, and frowned. "I mean, that's what happened, right? I walked in here and almost got my eyes burned out by a supernova, which had you two encased in the center....I'm assuming that means what I think it means?"

Evan groaned. "I think I'm going to be sick."

I fell back against my pillows, vocalizing my agreement. My stomach was jumping like I had swallowed Simone Biles, and it was not pleasant. "Aw, c'mon, Ev. He's not  _that_  bad," Jared quipped, because he thinks he's the next Jerry Seinfeld, Judaism and all. "What's even happening here?"

That was a good fucking question, but before I could figure out the answer to it, Evan suddenly yelped. Jared and I both jumped in alarm. Evan was white as a sheet, and he was shaking his arm like something had bit him. It didn't take me long to figure out he had just pinched himself, and hard by the sound of it.

"Oh. Oh, God."

"What?" Jared asked, "What's wrong?"

Evan was frantic, his eyes wide and darting between the two of us like they couldn't decide where to focus on. "I'm soulmates with my crush's brother, isn't that reason enough to freak out?!"

"What the hell, Evan?" Jared sputtered, to all of our surprise. "You and Zoe aren't even dating. You and Connor are  _soulmates_. Are you just going to ignore that? Do you know the likelihood that you and Connor would even meet and realize that, oh hey! you're each other's perfect match? Very few people get that, Evan!" Jared looked angry, and I wasn't completely sure it was all for my sake. I looked down at my lap and realized I was balling my fists so tightly my knuckles were white. "Some people search their whole lives for that! And what, you're going to throw it away on one stupid crush?"

I couldn't even look at Evan. I was afraid to see his reaction. "Jared..."

Evan paled. "Oh God, Connor I am so sorry, I didn't mean-"

"No, it's fine, Evan. It was stupid of me to kiss you." it was. It really fucking was. "I honestly don't know what came over me. We can just....pretend this never happened, okay?" I said, as if that was even a possibility. I wished it could be.

"N-no. We can't just pretend this never happened. But I can't-I can't think right now. I just-I never thought-this is all going so fast." his voice was shaking and I finally forced myself to look at him, and knot in my chest.

"I'm not expecting you to just drop everything and be with me."

"Connor-

"No. Listen, um, I'm really tired. Is it alright....?"

Jared grabbed Evan's arm, looking absolutely murderous. "See you later, Connor."

I said something like a goodbye, and Jared all but dragged Evan out the door.

I closed my eyes, thinking maybe all of this was a dream. The past twenty-four hours just didn't seem real, like I had been watching someone else live my life and hadn't been doing it myself. Two nurses passed by my room in the hall, not bothering to keep their voices down.

_"Ethan Flyte? I've got his file right here...oh no, it's really not looking good..."_

Something wet rolled down my cheek, and I didn't have the energy to wipe it away. 


End file.
